My husband’s gloves of choice are expensive (well, 30 quid, sounds expensive to me), thick, waterproof ones, kind of like ski gloves. He has these because he cycles to work. The rest of us favour whatever can be picked up in Tesco or Sainsburys for a quid and we have multiple pairs of them – to allow for a pair per coat plus a fair amount of leeway for losses.
Last weekend, when it was very cold, my eldest took my husband’s gloves to town. My husband didn’t want him to take the gloves to town, but he took them anyway. Only one of the gloves made it home.
As you can imagine, my husband wasn’t happy on a number of counts:
- My son had disobeyed his
DaddyDad by taking the gloves to town in the first place
- My son had been careless and lost the gloves
- The gloves would cost £30 to replace
- My husband’s hands were going to be cold.
The next day, we were going sledging and it was COLD. My husband wanted his gloves, but one of them was missing. He decided that we needed to drive to town to find the missing gloves. I suspected this would be a complete wild
goose glove chase.
Like many towns, our town centre is pedestrianised in parts and also has a one-way system. In short, you can’t just drive through the same way you walk. The likelihood was, the glove had been lost somewhere between the barbers’ shop (at one end of the town centre) and my husband’s office (at the other end of the town centre).
So somebody, somebody who was old enough to walk through the town centre unaccompanied, somebody who had the concentration and observation skills to look for a lost glove, had to walk through the town centre. There was only one candidate.
Sadly, the one candidate hadn’t realised this was a possibility when she got into the car. She thought she was going straight up the hill sledging. So she was wearing a waterproof coat – this coat is a necessary evil for rainy school runs etc – it is NOT an item of clothing to be wearing in town. She was cold, so she had her hoodie’s hood up. She was wearing wellies. And, horror of horrors, she was wearing WATERPROOF TROUSERS. In town.
OK, I’m dropping the third person thing now, because we all know that SHE is ME.
Picture the scene… Yes, there are grey clouds, yes, it is really flipping freezing. But there is NO SNOW. There isn’t even any rain.
And I am walking through town in a waterproof coat and trousers. The only indication that I give the slightest hoot about my appearance is that my wellies are at least Hunter. I don’t THINK I saw anyone I know. I was just hopeful that I looked SO bad that people simply wouldn’t recognise me. Because, let’s remember, I did also have my hood up.
Replace the comedy hat with a hood and this is what I looked like (this picture was taken later the same day) – perfectly acceptable up a hill in snow. In the town centre, less so.